not invisible
by staringatstars07
Summary: Feeling lonely, Warlock tries to summon a demon for company and ends up summoning his old nanny by mistake.
1. Chapter 1

Ever since that meeting with Hastur La Vista went downhill fast, the number of secret service agents surrounding Warlock had become unbearable. Who'd ever want to play video games with a kid who was followed by a group of adults dressed like MIB rejects 24/7? Somehow, he was being watched closer than ever, never a moment alone, and yet he'd never felt more invisible. His mom seemed to prefer spending time with a glass of wine to spending time with him and his dad was never around. He'd started wondering if his parents even liked each other at a young age, and now that he was older, he was sure they didn't.

Nanny had said it was like that, sometimes. People grew apart. Things changed.

But whether his parents were happy or miserable, whether they loved each other or didn't, it wasn't Warlock's fault and he should never, ever blame himself. Then Nanny left, taking Brother Francis with her, and what was Warlock supposed to think? How could it not be his fault if everything he knew and cared about chose to leave? There was no one left in the mansion who would look at him, no one to ask him about his day or sing him lullabies or teach him the names of the flowers in the garden. He was invisible.

A twelve-year-old ghost.

And he was angry. Stuffed too full of hurt, rage, and despair for a body so small, he was ready to lash out. Nanny had always said he would burn the world, hadn't she? Well, maybe that hadn't been all weird metaphors and hyperbole. Maybe there was something to it.

So he'd found a template for a demon summoning circle online. He'd read in the comments that this particular demon preferred to be summoned with a bottle of wine, but if there wasn't any wine on hand, a six-pack of beer would do.

He had no idea which of the wine bottles his mom would miss, so he grabbed the dustiest one from the rack, then grabbed a six-pack for good measure. This was arguably more effort than he'd ever put into impressing the kids at his birthday party, but it wasn't as though he'd really known those kids, anyway. Plus, they'd laughed and thrown cake at the magician. Normally, that sort of thing wouldn't have bothered him. It was just that there was something about the magician's open delight at performing that had reminded him of his gardener. Brother Francis had performed similarly cheesy tricks with coins and flowers and once even a snail, though Nanny had scolded him for that one.

Pushing thoughts of them aside, he focused on drawing an inverted star with a strange sigil in the center. A wiggly, squirming thing that looked a bit like a snake.

He kneeled at the foot of his red-striped tartan comforter, lit a scarlet candle with a match, then bowed his head and chanted, "I call on you, Daemon Serpens, to come at my command." At first, nothing happened. Though Warlock was disappointed, having hoped for the ground to tremble or the temperature to drop or _something_, he shrugged it off and kept going, repeating the summons with a louder, more confident tone. This time, a breeze picked up, threatening to extinguish his candle. It howled around him like a warning, but Warlock was so tired of being alone, so tired of being ignored, that he'd take even a demon's company over dealing with one more hour of being invisible. "Daemon Serpens," he cried into the maelstrom brewing in his bedroom. "I command you to appear before me!"

Before his eyes, a form appeared within the star, lanky and thin and tall. It was a man somewhere between twenty and forty, with red hair that crackled and sparked with flames. Apparently annoyed by this development, the man in the grey shirt and black jacket canted his hip and licked his fingers, then pinched a lock of his hair to extinguish the fire. "Yes," he intoned, "it is I. The great and formidable Serpent of Eden." Warlock gaped at him. "And I thought I told you wanna-be satanic cults not to summon…" He trailed off. Peering over his shades to reveal serpentine yellow eyes, the demon mouthed, _Warlock?_

Warlock's heart pounded in his chest. "Nanny?" Tears brimmed in his eyes. "Oh no. Did you die?"

"Why are you," his nanny made a series of unintelligible noises. "Is this a demonic ritual? Where did you-" They registered his question with a look of horror. "Of course not!" Nanny took a deep breath, clapping a hand to the back of her neck with a graying complexion. In all their time together, Warlock had never seen her look unsure. It scared him. "You weren't supposed to… I mean, you were going to have to find out, eventually."

Growing panicked, Warlock blurted out before she'd finished, "I didn't mean to summon you, I swear! I mean, I was trying to summon a demon, but I didn't think it would work. I don't know how this happened! I did everything the instructions said!" Head bowed, he began to curl in on himself, hands curling into fists. "I'm so sorry, Nanny. I never would have done this if I'd known this would happen."

He waited for her to start shouting at him. She'd never shouted at him before, but he'd also never summoned her to his bedroom with a demonic ritual before, so obviously this was an unprecedented circumstance. What if she didn't want to see him again after this?

Before he could launch into an apology, she knelt down to his level, bidding him lift his head up with a beseeching look. It seemed like she might have wanted to reach out and touch him, but something was preventing her. She smiled sadly, "I didn't… die. And I'm not angry. Not with you, my little hellspawn." The boy rubbed at his nose, sniffling, and her smile grew warmer. "Actually, the truth is… What I've been meaning to tell you is that, well, Brother Francis and I…" In the face of Warlock's boundless trust, she faltered. "I'm astral projecting," she finished with a sigh. "I do it in my sleep, sometimes. Won't even remember this when I wake up, I suspect."

"You can do that?"

Nanny averted her gaze. "Yesss."

Warlock frowned. He didn't know where to go from here. Would it be weird if he told her he'd missed her every day since she'd left? Would it be weird if he hugged her? Could you hug someone who was astral projecting, and if he could, would it scare her off? What if he asked her not to leave? To come back? To visit?

He would take anything. Any part of her time she was willing to spend with him.

His parents had said Nanny had left because he was getting too old, but what if it was because he'd gotten to be too much of a handful. What if she'd gotten sick of taking care of him? Most of the staff already thought he was an awful brat. What made Nanny and Brother Francis any different?

"Hey," his nanny's voice cut in, an octave or so deeper than he remembered. And decidedly not Scottish. "I can see from the look on your face that your head is taking you to a bad place. Brother Francis and I left because our jobs were done. We raised you until you were old enough to be passed on to your tutors, but that doesn't mean that we ever stopped l-" She cut off with a strangled sound, massaged her throat with a flash of irritation, then tried again, "We never stopped loving you, hellspawn."

"You said you don't remember your, um, astral projecting when you wake up, though."

Nanny looked at him with amusement, "Did I say that? I think this may just be an exception." For the second time, she reached out as though to ruffle his hair, stopping short of passing the border of the inverted star design with a wince. "I couldn't forget you if I tried, hellspawn." Warlock stared at her hand where it hovered, her black nail polish glittering in the candlelight, then darted forward, smudging the edge of the inverted star with both his hands and wiping away the sigil, much to his nanny's relief and displeasure.

"You silly boy," she scowled, "have you never seen a scary movie before? You don't just release demons in your bedroom on a whim." Warlock ducked his head again, feeling his cheeks burn with embarrassment and shame. She lowered her glasses, letting him see how frightened she'd been, letting him know that her words came from a place of worry, not anger. After a moment, she added in a subdued tone, "What if I'd wanted to hurt you? What if I wasn't truly your nanny at all? You can never be too careful - and what, pray tell, are smiling at?"

Warlock hadn't noticed he was smiling, but when she mentioned it, he realized she was right, and, "I missed you," slipped out. It was exactly as gooey and sappy and fond as he'd been dreading. Nanny stared at him for a moment, her lips parted slightly in shock, but before Warlock could begin to fret about scaring her off again, her thin arms were wrapped around him, holding him tightly, like he was precious and special and so very loved.

"No more summoning demons," she whispered fervently into his hair. "If you ever feel lonely, please just call me. There are ways to travel that are even faster than a summoning circle and I will employ each and every one of them to reach you."

Warlock leaned into her touch, "What if I don't want you to go?"

When she didn't respond, he chanced a peek at her expression, but the emotions flitting over her features were too fast and varied to pinpoint, as though she were arguing with herself. He waited patiently, then after several starts and stops, sighed. He wriggled out of her grasp, hating the loss of her embrace even as he pulled away. Bangs fell over his eyes, keeping him from seeing what his nanny looked like when she inevitably tried to explain that the desires of a child didn't always align with the reality of adults.

Instead, though, she tipped up his chin, brushing his bangs to the side, "Your mother loves you, Warlock." She didn't let him jerk away. "It may not seem that way now, but to take you for myself, however much I might like to, would be forever denying her the chance to see such a wonderful, clever boy grow up. Not even a demon could be so cruel."

"You're lying!" Warlock scrambled to his feet, kicking over a candle that extinguished before it hit the floor. "You don't want me! You're the same as everybody else-"

"I do." Warlock fell quiet, unnerved by how much ache could fit into such a small pair of words. "I want you so much a piece of me stayed with you the day I left. You are my little hellspawn, but that does not mean I can steal you away. She would worry herself to death over you-

"She wouldn't even notice I was gone." He was breathing harshly, his anger a thing with spikes in his chest, and yet his nanny was silent. She watched him without speaking, and waited. Unbidden, memories flashed in Warlock's mind, like home videos edited haphazardly together. His mother fixing him lunch, attending his birthdays, baking cookies together on a Sunday, laughing at the punchline to a joke he'd already told her and sharing fun facts after his tutoring sessions.

_Did you know whales are mammals? Did you know that bees are controlled by a Queen bee that gives birth to all the baby bees? Did you know that if a shark stops swimming it'll die?_

_I didn't, but now I do. Thank you for telling me, my clever boy._

He didn't know if it was right or wrong or for the best, but for now, he didn't want to leave her behind. When he looked down at the nanny again, she was staring proudly up at him.

Warlock coughed to hide the sudden thickness in his throat. "How do I know you'll come back if you leave?"

Nanny smiled knowingly. Then she carefully removed her shades and held them out. "This is my favorite pair of sunglasses. Will you take care of them for me?" Warlock held out his hands and she dropped the glasses onto his palm. Her mouth adopted a wry tilt at the look of awe he regarded them with. "I'll talk to your mother about letting you come visit us in Soho, and we'll see where things go from there."

"You mean it?" Warlock could barely contain his joy. He wanted to open up the window and shout it out to the world. "I can come visit you at your home? I can stay with you for a while?"

"I'll need your mother's permission first, but I'm liking your chances," she said with a wink, and Warlock felt the last dregs of tension bleed out of him. He knew he didn't have to worry about Nanny letting him down. She never had before.

Curious to know how she intended to get home, he tentatively asked, "So, do you have to wake up or…?"

"Right." Nanny gave a jerky nod. "Wake up. Because I'm human. Totally _homosapien_ \- that's me." This particular brand of weirdness was typical for her, so Warlock barely registered it as odd. He yawned, slumping against his comforter. Nanny made a _tsk_ sound under her breath, helping him into the bed and pulling the covers over his chin the way she had when he was small. He nestled under the blankets, exhausted after expending so much energy on the summoning, and soon drifted off to the melody of a lullaby.

There was no one standing beside Warlock's bed in the morning, nothing to suggest the summoning had been anything other than a vivid dream, except for the pair of expensive adult-sized shades sitting on his nightstand. Grinning, Warlock shoved them onto his face, spared a pleased glance at his reflection in the window, then headed downstairs for a rare breakfast of burnt toast and overcooked eggs. His favorite kind.


	2. Chapter 2

The time Thaddeus Dowling spent away from home grew longer as Warlock grew older. This time, his trip lasted six months, during which his wife and child found it increasingly difficult to connect. Their conversations, which had never come easily, became too uncomfortable and awkward to sustain. Warlock found himself having dinner alone more often than not, while his mother locked herself in her room, claiming she was tired or that she had a headache.

The days grew shorter as winter approached, each night chasing away the sun, and then, at last, there was news. Thaddeus Dowling was featured on the cover of a magazine, locked arm-in-arm with a pretty young woman with cascading curls and a slim red dress. Not knowing what to do with the magazine, Warlock tossed it in the trash, burying it under paper towels and napkins. He snatched them from mailboxes and doorsteps, anything to keep the news of his father's new secretary as far away from his mother as possible, and buried them in the dirt.

When he returned around lunchtime, covered in dirt and mud from his efforts, his mother was seated at the table, a cup of coffee next to her, long cold. "So that's why he's been spending so much time in Washington," she remarked with wry amusement. Her fingers traced the shape of her husband's hand around the young secretary's waist, something cold and flat in her eyes. Watching her, Warlock felt his stomach grow cold. He didn't like when she got like this. It usually meant he wasn't going to be seeing her for a while.

He must have made a sound because she twisted in her seat, staring at him for a moment without speaking. "Go take a shower," she said finally. "You're tracking mud in the house and you've ruined your clothes." So, with dirt underneath his fingernails from digging and grass stains on his knees, he trudged upstairs, wondering when Nanny was going to come visit again like she'd promised.

When he was done, there was a new suit sitting on his bed. He stared at it with distaste, but knowing he'd only get in trouble if he ignored it, pulled it on. It was a perfect fit. Standing in front of the mirror, he scowled at his reflection. His hair was too long for a boy, or so his father had told him. There was so little Warlock could control, though, so on that one thing he fought with claws and teeth bared.

His mother pursed her lips when she saw him in the kitchen, then herded him into the bathroom, where she fixed his tie and gelled back his hair. Side by side like this, they resembled each other, their pale features and dark hair nearly identical, yet when she was finished, she sourly noted, "You look like your father."

It wasn't true. No one ever said Warlock looked like his father.

_Please, Nanny. Come get me._

"Now, this evening, your father is going to be having dinner with us and some very important people will be joining him, so I'm going to need you to-"

"Behave?" Warlock nodded dully, but his mother shook her head, wearing a facsimile of a smile that made the hair on the back of his neck raise.

"Do whatever you like. Eat with your hands, if you want." Then she strode out, holding herself with dignity to conceal injury. Warlock had a good idea as to why she wanted him to act up, and he chewed his lip, his own frightened eyes staring back at him in the mirror.

Dad coming back was supposed to make her happy, but what if she was happier if he didn't come home? What would that mean?

By the time their guests arrived, his mother was already on her second glass of wine. She greeted each of the politicians cordially, freezing slightly when it was time to shake the hand of her husband's secretary. Thaddeus greeted his son with a perfunctory pat on the shoulder, a brief squeeze, and a promise to take him to the barbershop later. Warlock stiffened under his touch, biting his tongue against the protests welling up inside. This wasn't an argument he was prepared to rehash right now, not in front of strangers that weren't even supposed to be there.

His father had promised that they would be spending time as a family, just the three of them. He'd talked about going skiing together, or camping, but Warlock would have been content if his dad had just spent forty-five minutes talking to him, acting for once like he cared about more than just his political career. He should have known better than to think this time would be different. Twelve was too old to still be believing in fairytales and happy endings.

Nanny had lied.

Warlock was never going to grow up to rule the world. How could he when he couldn't even keep his parent's marriage from falling apart like a castle made of sand?

He curled his fingers into his pants, letting the inane conversation around the table pass harmlessly over him. His mother kept coldly staring at his father, who didn't even seem to notice. He was too busy staring at his secretary, who laughed lightly at his jokes, though Warlock noticed that none of her smiles reached her eyes, so he guessed the jokes weren't actually all that funny. His dad's jokes usually weren't.

Nanny hadn't told jokes, but she'd been witty. Even Brother Francis had laughed occasionally, and his smiles had always creased his eyes, so Warlock knew he'd meant it.

No one paid any attention to the boy seated at the table, struggling not to crumble into pieces.

_Why aren't I enough? What did I do wrong?_

"Tell me, dear, how old are you? Twenty-five? Twenty-seven?" The girl curved her fire-engine-red lips into a tight smile, her gaze flicking to Thaddeus as though sensing danger. Mrs. Dowling's lips parted, showing her teeth. "How long have you been sleeping with my husband?"

There was a small gasp and the entire table fell silent. Warlock had never prayed before, or if he had he couldn't remember, but he was praying now. He was trapped in the backseat of a car careening towards a cliffside, with nothing to do except squeeze his eyes shut and hold his breath.

Thaddeus blustered, his arm coming to rest on the girl's bare shoulders protectively, "That's- I would never…" He regarded the politicians with a placating smile. "She's normally not like this." He gently removed the wine glass from his mother's grasp, who looked at the offending hand with a glare cold enough to give frostbite. "Dear, why don't you get some rest?"

"What am I normally like, Thaddeus?" She sneered. "You've been away for six months, but surely you must be the expert here." Although it was plain that she was only getting started, suddenly she swayed, her eyes growing heavy. Thaddeus nodded, as though this merely proved his point, completely missing the way Harriet stared down at him with unadulterated hate as she climbed to her feet. Before he could stop her, she snatched the bottle of wine off the table, then emptied it on top of the American Ambassador's head. A red flush crept up from his collar, filling his cheeks, but before he could do more than stutter, she swept from the room.

Not long after she left, a tall man with short, ginger hair came strolling in from the kitchen. "Sorry, I'm late, folks." He said with a wink. "Traffic on the way here was Heaven." Warlock stared, hardly able to believe what he was seeing.

Soaking wet and red-faced, Thaddeus shot to his feet. "Who are you? Did my wife invite you?" He demanded, still trying to save face. "I know I didn't invite any freaks here."

When a suddenly furious tear slipped down Warlock's cheek, shame curling inside him, Nanny's smile grew fangs. "Warlock, why don't you go outside? My car's parked by the curb." Not needing to be told twice, the boy rushed to leave. The instant he was out the door, the lights began to dim. A nervous murmur rippled among the dinner guests, who found to their astonishment that they were unable to leave their seats. With a quick miracle, the bedroom upstairs was rendered soundproof, allowing its occupant to rest without any knowledge of the increasingly angry and confused shouts coming from the living room.

Fog rolled in from the doors and the windows, curling around their limbs. A ghostly wail echoed through the chamber, and the lights flashed overhead, lending a surreal, nightmarish quality to the evening.

Tearing off his shades to reveal a serpent's eyes, Crowley announced with unmitigated glee as the room filled with terrified screams —

"**It's showtime!**"

* * *

Once he was out of the house, Warlock made a beeline for the sleek-looking black car parked at the curb, diving into the backseat where he hoped to have a minute alone to get his thoughts together. That was before it became apparent that he wasn't alone in the car. The man sitting in the front had a serene expression on his face, his hands clasped in his lap.

"Are you," Warlock forced past the lump in his throat, "Brother Francis? What are you doing here?"

"Acting as an accomplice to a crime, I suspect," Brother Francis replied coolly, though he seemed pleased by how quickly Warlock had recognized him. By this point, the mansion had begun to shake. People came sprinting out the doors, screaming at the top of their lungs about a giant snake. Among them were his dad and his new secretary, who very soon was going to be his ex-secretary if her attempt to trip him was any indication. "Crowley appears to be having fun, at least."

"Go on!" Nanny called after them from the front steps, cackling. "Tell the world what you saw. No one will believe you, you nutters!" The fond look that passed over Brother Francis' face convinced Warlock that it really was the old gardener and he let out a tremulous laugh, marginally cheered by this and the sheer terror his nanny had inflicted on his dad and his guests. Part of him, though, worried that Nanny would make him go back into the mansion, back to his mother and the servants and dinners spent alone.

It was fifteen minutes more before Nanny strode to the car, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Your mother said you could stay with us for a time, Warlock," she said, though the look she passed to the gardener and hoped he wouldn't notice was uncertain. "She just needs some time to get some things sorted, but in the meantime, would you still be willing to…" She trailed off, sighed, and started again, "Before you decide, there's something I have to-"

"Yes." Warlock climbed out of the car. "Whatever it is you have to tell me, it wouldn't change anything. I want to go home with you and Brother Francis."

"But I haven't even told you what I-"

"It doesn't matter. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, or if you're not ready. You'll always be Nanny to me." Brother Francis looked as though he wanted to say something, but wisely kept silent. Slowly, Nanny removed her shades, and Warlock saw his own face staring back him, hopeful and scared at the same time. Not scared of Nanny, of course - unless you counted that one time she found out he stole all the cookies from the pantry and hid them under his bed by following the trail of ants from the kitchen to his room - but scared that she'd get in her car and leave again.

Speaking to Brother Francis, too, he said, "You're my family," and it was true.

Carefully, Nanny took his hands in her own. "Are you sure this is what you want?" She looked like he could shatter her with a feather.

Warlock nodded. "I've never been more sure of anything in my entire life."

"That's not really saying a lot at your age," and she opened the backseat door, gesturing for him to climb in, "but I'll take it." While Warlock buckled his seatbelt, Nanny slipped into the front seat. "See, Angel? I told you it would work out."

The car started up without a hitch. Brother Francis bit back a smile, "So you did, my dear," and Warlock sank back into his seat, feeling confident in the knowledge that he'd had his nanny's secret figured out since he was six.


End file.
